


Regrets Met at a Bar

by Jameson9101322



Category: Babylon 5, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Drabble, Gen, Gift Fic, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 11:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5784229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameson9101322/pseuds/Jameson9101322
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt challenge/ gift for @mltate24 on twitter, who traded favorite character analyses with me and dared to wonder what would happen if they met. </p><p>In the afterlife -- beyond the rim, beyond the veil -- two unlikely characters meet and compare sorrows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regrets Met at a Bar

Somewhere beyond the veil of death, a dark figure swept into an alleyway, frilling his many coats and robes as he went. A door waited a block back from the street, hidden around the corner to evade passers by. The man chose it specifically to avoid notice – he didn't want to explain his restlessness to the peacefully deceased. 

Inside was a smoky bar. Other ne'er-do-wells haunted the corners, nursing drinks the man was certain would not successfully inebriate them. He wasn't sure it was possible to be drunk as a dead man, nor was he there to try. He wanted a place to remember what tormented him, not forget.

His heels clacked as he crossed the quiet room and took a stool at the bar as far from the door as he could get. Three seats over, a bald-headed man wearing a military uniform and an eye-patch sat hunched over an empty glass. He resembled a fellow dead man, someone he knew in life, but this wasn't Alistair Moody, and it was a good thing, too. The overbearing loud mouth would have moved seats and lectured for five eternities about the struggles of good and evil and his contribution therein. Moody had an annoying case of self importance, and the cloaked man was past exhausted of lectures both given and received. He parted his black robe and folded his hands on the bar.

The bartender was no one he recognized living or dead. “What're you havin?”

“Water.”

“Sure, yeah, but what for real?”

“Just –“ a muscle clenched in the cloaked man's jaw, “water.”

The bartender set it on a napkin and left to pour the man with the eye-patch another shot of whiskey.

The cloaked man stared at his reflection in the surface, studying the lines and circles beneath his heavy brow. Before it happened, he was certain death would see him young and happy in some paradise, but ends up, dying was a continuation of living. Those who passed before him said souls took the appearance of their heart when they died, and he here was, the very same as the last day he was alive. He could still feel the constriction of the bite around his throat, the lightheaded-ness as blood drained from his veins, the look of pity in young Potter's unmistakable green eyes... Lily's eyes. She was with her husband now, as she should be. He was foolish to think of her waiting for him. How dare he, really? To expect a nice thing in store for him – a reward for all he'd done? The definition of foolish. Hogwarts Headmaster Severus Snape – the king of all fools on both sides of the veil. 

The bar door clattered open and thundering laughter rolled in. Snape sneered as a strange creature entered. He wore a brightly colored coat and his hair fanned up in a ridiculous crest about his head like the transitional state between a wizarding fop and a Buckingham Palace guard. The stranger laughed again and clapped his male companion on the back. The man rolled his eyes and tugged his suit jacket with an impatient sigh. “Cut it out, will, ya? You're spoiling the mood.”

“What mood? We are here to drink!”

“You and I are not here to do anything.” The suited man peeled the offending hand off his shoulder. “If you want to drink something, go to the bar and get it yourself.”

“You are no fun at all!”

“I am not here for fun, I came here with my thoughts, I did not invite you.”

“Come now, Mr. Garibaldi, what's past is past. There is no point to sit here moping about what went before, embrace the freedom of this new life and live it!”

“Enough, Londo, okay?” The man sank into to the only chair at a small table. “Just... enough.”

The colorful man, Londo raised his hands in appeal and dropped them with a sigh. “Fine. Sulk. But if you decide you need a friend I will be right over there, saving you a seat and enjoying myself.”

The only two seats together were between Snape and the eye-patched man. Londo b-lined for the space. Snape clenched his hands around his water glass, willing with all his heart for the stranger to choose the the farther option. To his great relief, it worked. Londo sat beside the soldier and leaned across the bar. 

The bartender returned. “Yes?”

“Do you serve Brivari here?”

“Is that alien?”

“It's Centauri.”

“Then no.”

He cast an eye to the patched man's glass and regained his smile. “I'll have what hes having.”

The bartender ambled off, leaving a moment's awkward silence as all present avoided eye contact. Londo cleared his throat and leaned toward the old soldier. 

“Pardon my intrusion, but you remind me of my friend G'Kar. It's the eye that does it. He spent an unfortunate length of time with a patch similar to that – cruder, but he's a Narn, so I won't pretend to understand.” 

Londo's drink arrived. He toasted the bartender and took it in a shot. 

“Ah, you have good taste, my friend. I like a little bite.” He raised his eyebrows to his silent companion. “I find this place rather dismal. Are all who visit here to mope?”

The soldier grunted.

“And about the eye, I'm sure it's a sore subject, but it begs the question why you kept it. G'Kar has two healthy eyes, now that we've all been reborn – we look the way we want to so is it safe to assume you like it? Perhaps a fashion statement?”

The soldier groaned and shifted away from him. “Get lost buddy.”

Londo pouted and turned instead toward Snape. The ex-headmaster went rigid, reciting spells in his head, but the half-dozen wards he completed had little affect. Londo scooted a seat closer and leaned into Snape's personal space with a waft of strong cologne. “And you? Drinking water? You're as bad as Mr. Garabaldi.”

Snape's frown deepened.

“He came with me. He is sitting back there, being a child. Perhaps you can enlighten me as to the purpose of visiting a bar without ordering alcohol. Sour as you both are, at least a beverage would give the location purpose. It feels like you've romanticized it – as if we were characters in a moody crime novel. You might as well be in your own house.”

“Please... sir.” Snape hissed through clenched teeth. “Do. Not. Annoy me.”

“Even the air is dank in here. Atmosphere goes a long way to improving general morale. Perhaps if there was music – I know more than one Earth composer fit to raise spirits with a tune. Have you heard of Chopin?”

“I beg you.” Snape turned his head with a snap, his heavy black hair falling across his eyes. “You have no idea the regret you interrupt.”

Londo started, smile lost. His face darkened to a solid sheet of steel, surpassing his unusual attire to match Snape's intensity all the way to the piercing glare. “Do not dismiss me, sir. I've seen my fair share of regret.”

Snape broke the stare and faced forward again. “I could not begin to care.”

“So that is what the bar is, a place to regret.” the good humor in Londo's voice was gone. He heaved a grumbling breath and tapped his empty glass for the bartender's attention. “A double.”

He took the second drink more slowly, rolling it about the glass between sips. Snape resumed his stony aversion, casting silent spells to drive the man off. An anxiety spell, a disillusionment spell, a hex to make him violently ill – nothing worked. Perhaps his powers didn't work on creatures from other worlds. The wizard considered trying something forbidden when the man beside him spoke; softly at first, almost to himself with a thick, unplaceable accent muddying every word. 

“You know, sometimes I wonder if I should wake up from all this.”

The heaviness of the thought deflated Snape's pride. He knew the taste of it, and the sliminess as it coated the back of his throat. The promise of a second life was always too good to be true.

Londo continued. “What would I do if one morning I open my eyes and find myself an old man, lying on the throne room floor, a prisoner both body and mind with no good thing left to me in the universe.” Londo set the glass on the counter. “I imagine the guards would find me crumbled to pieces like a leaf of old parchment.” 

Snape clenched his jaw. Bitterness gurgled like bile up his throat. “To wake now would make no difference.”

“None?” Londo eyed him side-long. “Would it be better for you to wake up?”

“My affairs are my own.”

“Was life much better for you than death?”

“No.”

“Did you leave unfinished business back in the world?”

His mind returned to the greenhouse floor, and all trusts and betrayals that led him to it. “No.”

“Did you have a woman?”

Hot spikes lanced through Snape's insides. How dare he be so invasive? A violent word and a firm smack formed intention in his heart but his soul stirred even stronger. He dare not move or he would cry. “No.”

“A man, then?”

“No.” Snape bowed his head. “There was a woman, but I did not have her.” 

“Ah,” Londo's demeanor eased. They must have found some common ground. Snape hated him bitterly, but found relief in the casual shift and the knowledge that at least everyone shared some regret in life and death. Londo tasted his drink again and shook his head. “I had a woman back when – a dancer. She was one of many regrets I lived life with. Killed by those I thought my allies. Ironic, no? They used my heart to bend me. Can I list the things I did in their service because of that? What a fool.” He took the rest of the drink in one go and set the glass upside down on the bar between them. “I missed her for twenty years.”

Snape regarded the inverted glass, remembering Lily dead on the floor of her own home, victim of the killing curse. The dark mark of Lord Voldemort was still tattooed on his forearm – something else thought he would shed in death. It itched against his sleeve as he recalled the weight of her limp body cradled against his chest. “Have you found her?”

Londo was surprised to hear him. “Pardon?”

“Have you found her? On this side?”

The bartender returned for the empty glass. Londo caught his hand. “Two this time.”

“You got it.”

The glasses were poured. Londo slid one in front of Snape. The ex-headmaster noted a ruby ring on his companion's finger and gold thread in his embroidered sleeve. A man of wealth, surly. Did he say “throne room?” 

“That is yours, you know.” Londo tapped the table near the glass. “My treat.”

Snape sneered at the straight spirits with no intention to accept. “You're too kind.” 

“I can't imagine what kind of proper regret can be stirred with plain water,” Londo huffed. “Detest the stuff, myself. I've abstained of drink for too long against my will, this is my second chance at good proper drinking among so many other things.”

“You are saying...” Snape poked the shallow glass with one finger. “Death is an excuse to drink?”

“Can you think of a better one?”

Snape couldn't argue that. He lifted the glass in two fingers and sniffed. The liquor burned like fire all the way up his sinuses and into his eyes, sending his mind straight to potions class in the dungeons of Hogwarts castle. Muggle liquor had no grace. He set the cup beside his water glass and let it be. 

“You seem a heavyhearted fellow, I did not catch your name.”

“It is unimportant.”

“I thought perhaps I might know you. I have a great many human friends here beyond the rim,” Londo's humor returned with a teasing lilt. “With such deep dark regrets I assume you were a very important man.”

“Don't patronize me.”

“Forgive me if I overstepped.” He shifted again. “I find the size of one's regret matters less when taken from a higher vantage point. Wallow in the lows if you like, and it appears you like that sort of thing, but I spent enough of my life on that occupation. I'm grateful for a second chance.”

“Chance?” Snape hissed the final syllable. “When everything is over? The damage has been done.”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “Looking backward I'm sure that seems daunting, but looking forward is eternity and that's far from over.”

“Inconsequential.”

“Hah! You have very odd priorities.” 

“What has come before is set in stone, nothing done in this after-world can undo any of it.” Snape seethed, staring upward. If only this room were enchanted as the Hogwarts great room was. Strange that this world had weather and day and night... something else he didn't expect and found disturbing. Paradise should be sunshine and youth and beauty and here he was, enjoying none of that.

“Undo it, no, but have you learned?” Londo leaned closer when Snape did not respond. “Have you learned from it?”

“Excuse me?”

He pursed his lips. “I'll elaborate. I don't know how massive or devastating your worldly sin was. Excruciating I'm sure. No need to share details. But MY sin... my sin started a war, it killed my loved ones, it was a mistake made in voluntary ignorance by a man too afraid to accept the truth about change – enlightenment later revealed that truth.”

Ah. The lecture. Just what he wanted. “Your point?”

“Change can never happen too late,” Londo said. “Even here. You and I... all these people most likely.. even Mr. Garibaldi who I am sure is listening.” He glanced over his shoulder to see if he was right. “To accept your past as a former version of yourself and strive to head forward with those mistakes already made is the braver and smarter option. That friend I mentioned to the the other gentleman? G'Kar? He was my most bitter enemy and through enlightenment he became my dearest friend. He got his eye back when he crossed over, can you imagine? To return to a state of mind where you are made perfect. Did he loose the eye? Yes. Will he forget it, no... I don't imagine he will. Does he let it torment him still?” Londo's eyebrows arched. “So it is with my regrets.”

The room felt closer and darker for some reason. Snape realized he was slouching and corrected himself. What kind of scholar was this clown, speaking of wars and blood as if he were there? The affairs of foreign planets might was well not exist. Still the cautionary tale struck notes in his withered soul. Snape realized his stubborness was active, and the walls about his heart were straining against hopeful thoughts he dare not welcome. 

Londo waited for a response but surrendered with a sigh and knocked back the last of his drink. “Well, thank you my new friend, you've taught me a valuable lesson today.”

“What is that?”

“I'm wasting my time.” He smacked a clip of bills on the counter and snapped at the bartender. “For you, sir.”

“Thanks come again.”

“Hah.” Londo smacked Snape's arm. “Enjoy the drink.” He ambled to his friend nursing a glass of water at the solo table near the entrance. “Mr. Garibaldi, I am exhausted and I will not leave you in this state.”

“I'm just fine.”

“No, sir, you are not.” Londo hauled him to his feet by one arm. “The sun is shining, time continues, and I plan to follow it. This place is a quagmire and I refuse to let you drown.”

“Londo, please don't.” 

“No.” He took the man by both shoulders, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “You are the master of your fate, now. If I can face a new day with gratitude you have endless cause to follow suit. This is about Sheridan, no? See, I am not so blind. Does it help him any for you to be here steeping in sadness where he cannot see you suffer? You call each other friends. Ask him.”

“I don't want to – “

“Of course you don't. Who ever does? But you should.” He wagged a finger. “You should.”

Snape heard them leaving. Something lingered on his mind. He turned on the stool and called to their backs. “Wait.”

“Yes?”

“You never told me if you found her.”

“I did.” Londo's lip tugged into a wide smile. “She forgave me.”

With that the two were gone. Snape turned back to his untouched drinks; the water of stagnation and the spirit of risk. Choice as a mere concept was too large to fit in his small walled off heart. Perhaps if he dared take the barrier down... just for a moment... 

He swallowed the shot of whiskey in one gulp as he'd seen his new friend do over and over. It tasted harsh and stung like fire straight through his chest, but also warmed with a glow that spread through his lungs and up his back like wings folding tight against the draft of the world. Lily was with her husband, like she should be, but she was here. That was something. They were existing together in time and place again. Perhaps if he was honest, he could be who he wanted to be all along; a friend and companion. No.. a good person. The space about his heart swelled with a power he'd long forgotten. 

To know we was once good, and could be again. To realize that he was all along. 

The burn moved to his right arm and lingered below the space the dark mark was branded. Snape pressed it to his chest and swept away from the building, up the street, through sunshine and people until he found new shelter in an open plaza. The burn subsided in a bath of sunlight and clean air. Snape checked his shoulders for witnesses and hurriedly dropped his outer vestments, removing two sleeves before finding the plain black of his undershirt and peeling it back to expose pale skin. The arm was scarred and burned from a life of hard experience but clear. Unmarked. The brand that claimed him for darkness was gone. 

“Lily,” he whispered. She would believe him if she saw his heart. 

There was not a moment to waste. Snape bundled his robes and left for more familiar locales. She was with her husband, so at least he could find her there. It would take little time compared to the promise of all eternity.


End file.
